“Yes,” said the girl, looking up in surprise at the manner in which they had received her communication.
But this was no time to explain by introducing the tragedy of Allworth Abbey. The curious women were for once more eager to hear than tell news, and so Mrs. Broadsides inquired:
“And whatever could have taken you to Allworth Abbey of all the places in the world, my poor dear?”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you as you are so good to me. I am an orphan; my mother died when I was an infant, and my poor father died a few days ago in his lodgings in London, leaving me quite destitute. So the parish officers talked of sending me to the union, or binding me apprentice to a mistress. I couldn’t bear the thoughts of either, so I ran away, travelling by rail as long as my money lasted, and then setting out to walk.”
“But why to Allworth Abbey?”
“Because my poor mother had a foster-sister living at service there, who, I thought, might be kind to me.”
“What—what was her name?” inquired Miss Tabs.
“Tabitha Tabs. I remember it well.”
“Why, that was my name; but my mother never had but one-nurse child, and that was Miss Anna Eleanor Brunton. Oh, my goodness, Mrs. Broadsides, can—can—can it be as this is her darter!” exclaimed Miss Tabs, breathlessly.
“What is your name, young girl?” exclaimed the housekeeper, in an agitated voice, grasping the arm and gazing eagerly into the face of the stranger.